


Conventionality Belongs to Yesterday

by Lucky107



Series: Rock 'n' Roll High School [7]
Category: Bully (Video Games)
Genre: Fist Fights, Gen, Implied Relationships, Promiscuity, Roughhousing, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 13:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8058400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucky107/pseuds/Lucky107
Summary: Could she really be looking for a fight?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Grease - Frankie Valli - 1978

**November, 2006**

"Lola!"  An's voice is a gravelly holler.  All of those cigarettes are finally catching up to her.  "Where d'ya think you're going?"

The redhead in question stops.

An, visibly out of breath, stands in the middle of the walkway looking just like an angry bull.  Could she really be looking for a fight?

Lola manages to muster a look of genuine surprise that doesn't appear to fool An.  She opts to lie through her teeth with that trademark devilish smirk, walking directly towards the Vale movie theater while insisting, "Don't be silly.  I'm going home, dear."

"You told Johnny you'd be at the tenements," An reminds her as she balls her hands into fists.  " _Right now_."

Lola laughs.

It doesn't ease the tension.

"If you care so much about Johnny, maybe you ought to stop by and see him yourself," she suggests cheekily.  "While you're there, can you pass it along that I won't be able to make it?  I've got such a terrible headache..."

"It ain't about _Johnny_ , Lola, it's about _us_."

Once again a light of surprise appears in Lola's eyes, her innocence flicking on and off like a light switch.  "Oh, my - and just what are you trying to imply, dear?"

Some of the people passing by hurry along, fully aware of what's to come, while others gather in a mixture of excitement and concern.  This type of entertainment is uncommon in the Vale, threatening to shake up the quiet monotony of the better class.

"You put us all at risk, actin' the way you do, but y'know I don't care what ya do outside of New Coventry.  I do care 'bout what you're tryin'a do to _us_.  Ya don't shit where you eat, Lola.  Where we _all_ eat."

Without warning An draws her arm back and throws a powerful punch.

Lola fails to predict the blow and is unable to defend against it.  Her hands fly to her sore and soon-to-bruise cheek before she hisses, "You _bitch_."

"C'mon, hit me!"  An hollers, goading her to fight against her inherent reluctance.  "Or are ya too much of a _lady_ now—"

So Lola punches her.

_Hard._

The impact of the blow is enough to shatter An's nose, knuckles crushing the soft cartilage flat against her face.  "Jesus," An murmurs around the immediate eruption of blood.  "You really _do_ hit like a lady!"

In a desperate bid for dominance, An throws all of her weight at Lola and catches her by surprise.  It provides the only advantage she's got, but she knocks Lola down onto the cobblestone walkway and offers her little room for resistance.  It doesn't stop her from scratching at every inch of visible skin she can find, though, and she fights back fiercely in a struggle for control.

A role reversal really shouldn't be so damn hard with An in a daze from that broken nose, but she's strong.

"Get _off_ of me!"  Lola shouts and she spits in An's face, adding insult to injury.  Finally, An relents.  "You're _crazy_ , you know that?  Damn crazy!"

Upon sitting up, however, she realises that it wasn't her words that brought An back around: Gord and Tad are kneeling on either side of her while Lefty struggles to restrain An.  She maybe be small, but she's a little feral beast when she gets wound up.

"Help me up," Lola demands crossly, beckoning for Gord's aid.

He doesn't hesitate to comply.

Their date has already been ruined on account of An's nosing about, but with the recent humiliation she's had to endure in front of so many people, she wants for nothing more than to simply disappear.

\- - -

It winds up taking a good half-hour to set An straight after the fight.

Lefty wrestles her back behind Shiny Bikes and wrenches her arms crudely behind her back to kill the fight inside.  She bucks and kicks and hollers against him in a blind rage, lashing out against some inner demon that he can't see, but she eventually wears herself down.

Once the worst of the adrenaline kick has passed, they make their way up to the lighthouse lookout and enjoy the silence that accompanies the stroll.

Neither one of them speaks about the incident—when An is ready to talk, she will.

Growing up in New Coventry, full of pent-up anger and a feeling of displacement from society, was something they had in common: the brewing of a volatile mixture of anger and grief.  In Lefty that need to lash out against society had always found release in the form of apathy; in An it was a dangerous aggression.

As the sun begins to fade, she finally murmurs, "Lola ain't got a clue.  She's gonna destroy everythin' we've got 'n'—"

"No she ain't," he interjects gently.  "Not if we don't let 'er."

An grunts.  "You tell that to Johnny."

"It ain't 'bout Johnny, neither—never was."  His hand finds her shoulder and offers a reassuring squeeze.  "Johnny or no Johnny, we still got each other.  Sure, he might've brought us t'gether, but we don't need 'im to keep bein' ourselves, do we?"

The concept is so stupidly simple and so stupidly true that An is left at a loss for words.  She had never wanted to see the conventional truth, convinced that without everyone she would have no one.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

What makes them who they are is more than what Johnny says or what Johnny does.  It's the familial bond they share because New Coventry is in their blood and there's no one, not even a tramp like Lola, who can take _that_ away.

An reaches up to touch Lefty's hand on her shoulder.  "You're always right, Lefty, 'n' I always take that for granted, thinkin' I know what I'm doin'.  I'm sorry 'bout today—"

"Don't think like that," he insists with a lopsided smile.  "'sides... I think everyone's wanted to hit 'er.  'cept maybe Peanut."

"In Ol' Bullworth Vale, no less—"

"Couldn't've been a better place: really messed up her date with that rich kid," Lefty assures.  "You, uh... wanna go 'n' see a doctor 'bout that nose?"

The bleeding had stopped some time ago, an indication that the fracture wasn't nearly as bad as it had felt, but the suggestion makes An queasy.  It's not the first time she's broken her nose—and it's certainly not the first time that it's happened during a fist-fight—but the concern Lefty offers softens her expression.

"Neither of us got that kinda dough," she notes.  "I'd prefer t' have Doctor Mancini look it over, anyways."

Giving her a playful shove, Lefty starts off towards the slope.

"C'mon," he says.  "I'll give ya a ride to the tenements 'n' we'll see what we can do."


End file.
